


Let the old dreams die

by AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst



Series: Ivar x Ylva [6]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Angst, Blood, Bloodlust, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fluff, Multi, Pregnancy, Raiding and the things that come with that, Relationship Problems, Slavery, Smut, Trauma, Violence, dad!Ivar, mention of rape, parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-10 14:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13503351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst/pseuds/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst
Summary: The sequel to Keeping Promises.Life has drastically improved for both Ivar and Ylva; they rule Kattegatt and raise their daughter together. Still, Ivar has higher ambitions than that which takes him to new places. Ylva struggles to handle everything that is expected of her. Meanwhile, there are still those who think Ivar isn't fit to be king and they are biding their time.Please note that for all of my works that have sexual content, all relevant characters are at least 18 years old. If they are not yet 18 in canon, I age them up.





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Keeping promises](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490925) by [AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst/pseuds/AnUnhealthyDoseOfAngst). 



Tanaruz walks beside Ylva, keeping an eye on the queen so that she won’t slip on the wet ground as they make their way to the docks.

“Careful,” Tanaruz warns “I will have enough to do with helping the wounded.” Thankfully the rain seems to be letting up. With a little luck, they won’t be soaking wet by the time the warriors come ashore. As soon as Ylva stops there’s a sharp tug at the hood of her cloak and she turns to look at the culprit.

“Where is he, móðir?” Dagný asks. She’s clinging to Helga’s back, peering over her shoulder at the returning army. Ylva swallows the lump in her throat but wills herself not to sound bitter when she answers.

“See that boat at the very front?” She nods towards the water. Dagný squints then nods eagerly when she spots the boat.

“Yes, móðir.”

“I think he is in that one, sweetling.” Ylva’s words manage to calm the girl but only for a short while. Soon, their daughter is huffing and squirming in her attempts to get a better look at the incoming boats. Ylva can’t blame her. Ivar has been gone for nearly three months, leaving his wife to watch over Kattegatt in addition to the household.

“There!” Dagny shouts ”I see him, Helga, I see him!” Ivar sits huddled up in the prow, a cloak with a hood protecting him from the weather. Still, there’s no mistaking his features. It seems to take forever before they arrive. Two of the warriors help him onto the bridge and there’s a thud as his metal covered legs connect with the wooden boards. Tanaruz is already at Floki’s side, seemingly inspecting his hand while Helga gets up on her toes to kiss him. Ivar’s crutch leaves indents in the boards as he shuffles towards Ylva and she breaks into a smile. He towers over her, grinning widely. Ylva bows her head almost imperceptibly.

“Welcome home, my king.” His thumb and pointer finger wrap around her chin to make her look at him. He wets his lips, calloused fingertips dragging back and forth.

“Such formalities, wife.” Even though they long for more, their first kiss is quick since Dagný is desperately reaching for her father. While Ylva takes a step back, the taste of salt lingering on her lips, their daughter effortlessly climbs from Helga’s back to Ivar and dangles her legs over his shoulders.

“Are you holding on properly, skatt?” Ivar asks. Dagný’s grip tightens.

“Yes, papa!” Ivar pats her leg then turns to the warriors crowding the area.

“Go home to your families,” He calls out with Dagný still clinging to his hair and cloak “tonight we celebrate!”

 

**〜〜〜〜〜*****〜〜〜〜〜**

 

Ivar is being generous, allowing the warriors an even bigger share of the treasure than he usually does. Amid the feeling of pride that is making her heart swell, Ylva can’t help but wonder what he is planning. Dagný sits in his lap the entire time. She helps her father hand out the more precious pieces of treasure to the warriors that have distinguished themselves.

“Before we move on to tonight’s entertainment, there are two more gifts I would like to give away.” The crowd goes silent.

“For my princess,” He slips a bracelet around the girl’s wrist “and for my queen.” The cold chain of a necklace chills her skin. He adjusts the Mjölnir pendant that must have replaced a cross and before he can retreat, Ylva pulls him into a kiss that has the gathered crowd whistling. When they pull apart, Dagný is covering her eyes and Ivar breaks into laughter. He gathers the girl in a tight hug and whispers something that Ylva doesn’t catch in her ear, but whatever it is it has Dagný pouting in a way that is eerily similar to Ivar. He grabs a cup from the table and raises it high.

“To a good raid. Skál!” The great hall erupts in cheers. As the celebration proceeds there’s toast after toast and before long the musicians pick up their flutes and harps. Men and women grab onto each other, making their way onto the open space between the tables. The change in Ivar’s mood is palpable. She recognizes the look in his eyes, the way he hides his sullen face behind a cup of mead. Ylva gestures for Dagný to come closer and the girl leans in.

“Dagný, why don’t you go sit with Arne for a bit?” Ylva suggests “Show him what papa got for you.” Her daughter lights up and not a second later she’s slipped off of Ivar’s lap. Ivar stares after the girl as she makes her way to the blacksmith, so bewildered that he jumps when discovering that Ylva is standing right in front of him. She hikes her skirt up, settling with her legs on either side of him. He murmurs her name. They’ve done this enough times for Ivar to understand. He sets the cup on the table, then places one hand at her waist and takes her hand in the other. The music is upbeat but still they go slowly, Ylva swaying back and forth and humming their own tune for them to follow. His breath fans against her ear.

“I missed you, varg.” She leaves a trail of kisses over his brow.

“Of course you did.”

 

**〜〜〜〜〜*****〜〜〜〜〜**

 

The crowd has dwindled down, leaving the great hall nearly empty. Helga and Floki have already returned to their cabin but Tanaruz stayed behind, insisting that she had no desire to disturb the couple’s first night back together. Dagný yawns and squirms further into her mother’s grip. Ylva brushes the dark curls out of the way and kisses her daughter’s forehead, making the girl whine.

“Ivar.” Ylva says softly. Ivar turns at the sound of her voice, seeing their daughter half-asleep.

“Come here, princess,” He croons as he lifts Dagný into his lap “Are you tired?” The girl murmurs something indiscernible in response.

“How would you like to spend the night with Hildur and Arne?” She peers up at him, stifling another yawn.

“You always send me to them when you’ve been gone, papa.” Dagný says. Guilt floods Ivar's face, something that only his daughter can accomplish.

“Is it because you are so tired?” Dagný asks, forehead creased in concern “Does my snoring keep you awake?” Ivar blinks rapidly, trying to come up with an answer. Ylva bites her lip to stop herself from laughing, feeling just a little bit guilty, and across the table Hildur does the same. Eventually though, Ylva takes pity on him.

“Of course not, sweetling,” She starts “It is just that we know Arne has missed you very much during the raid. And I have some things I would like to discuss with faðir. We do not want to keep you awake all night.”

“We won’t force you to go there, princess.” Ivar hurries to add. Dagný falls silent, looking as if in deep thought. Finally, she looks up again.

“I have missed Arne too.” She admits.

 

**〜〜〜〜〜*****〜〜〜〜〜**

 

“It’s not funny, wife.” He mutters as soon as the door closes behind them.

“It is a little funny,” Ylva replies “It doesn’t happen often that anyone gets to see you at a loss for words.” Her jaw actually hurts from the effort of not laughing. Ivar sinks down on their bed with a groan and, with some assistance from Ylva, begins to loosen the contraptions from his legs.

“How much pain are you in tonight?” She tries to be careful but still he winces and grinds his teeth. Ivar looks the other way.

“I might need that special medicine.” He answers after a long silence. He tries to sound playful but she can see the tension in his jaw. Ylva hides the braces out of sight then gestures for him to lie down. While Ivar situates himself, she finds the oil that Floki created.

She eases the pants down his legs, pausing to kiss his knees and shins, then rubs the oil in her palms to ensure that it is warm. Starting at the soles of his feet, Ylva works her way up until she can take Ivar in her mouth and he lets out a long moan. He grinds his hips in time with her movements then arches his back as he spills down her throat. He quickly begins to tug at her, urging her to climb further up and sit on his face, growling something about ‘take off your clothes’. His hands take a vice-like grip at her hips and keep her in place until she cries out and stiffens over him. They catch their breath together, Ylva with her back pressed against Ivar’s chest. Ivar nuzzles against her neck.

“How have things been in my absence?” Ylva hesitates. The first night, Dagný cried because he wasn’t there to tell a bedtime story. She didn’t stop until it was nearly dawn and Ylva was on the verge of breaking down in tears herself. The day after that, two men showed up in the great hall and accused each other of stealing. On and on it went all summer: petty squabbles over land, fortifications that needed to be repaired, girls coming to seek her protection. At least the last matter was something closer to her heart.

“Eventful.” She answers.

“I am sure you handled it well.” He presses a kiss to her cheek and shifts under the furs, making himself comfortable. _I have to tell him before he falls asleep._

“I’m going to the midwife tomorrow.” Ylva whispers. Ivar’s hand is at her stomach before she can blink.

“Are you…?” He breathes right next to her ear, suddenly wide awake.

“Perhaps.” She answers, even though she is almost certain that she is. Not a second later Ivar has turned Ylva onto her back and placed himself between her legs, with his face at her stomach and eyes narrowed.

“I can see it.” He says. Ylva only scoffs in response; she certainly hasn’t noticed any difference yet. Ivar glares at her then dips his head back down to run his nose over her stomach.

“I can see it.” He repeats, ignoring the way she squeals that it tickles.

 

**〜〜〜〜〜*****〜〜〜〜〜**

 

Ylva adjusts the blankets in Dagnýs bed one last time then sneaks away as quietly as is possible on her crutches. The sound of her daughter snoring fades as she crosses the room to where Ivar sits hunched over the table. His fingers trace along whatever it is that he is studying, lips moving as if reading out loud.

“What are you looking at?” She asks and takes the seat next to him.

“A map,” He answers “of an island.” She can already tell that this island is where he wants to go next and truth be told it stings a little. Ivar has only been home for a week and he is already thinking of where to go next. Now she understands why he was so generous. As if sensing her change in mood, Logn pads over to Ylva and rests his head in her lap. She coos at the dog, telling him he’s such a handsome boy, while scratching behind his ears.

“Will you let me come with you this time?” She asks. She knows Ivar’s answer before he speaks but that doesn’t stop her from hoping. He raises a hand to rub at his eyes before focusing his gaze on the map again.

“No.” He says, so quietly that she almost doesn’t catch it. Ylva pauses for a moment and Logn immediately presses closer to her, demanding that she continue giving him attention.

“It is a new place, varg. I don't know what waits there.” Ivar explains. She is tempted to say that he didn’t have an issue with inviting her to war camps in England but that was years ago. Things were different then. Ivar turns in his chair to face her.

“Besides,” His fingers brush against her belly “if what the midwife said is true, then you need to be home and rest next summer. I’m not letting you and our new babe get in a boat to a foreign place.” Ylva bows her head down as if studying Logn’s fur. She doesn’t make any new attempts at talking to him, only sits there until the tears at the corners of her eyes have dried. She excuses herself and nudges for Logn to move so that she can go to bed. Ylva has nearly fallen asleep when she can hear the sound of Ivar dragging himself across the floor. Without really knowing why, Ylva decides to feign sleep. The furs shift as he settles under them.

“I am their king. I can't stay behind and let them raid themselves. Especially not if we are going to a new land.” Ivar says but Ylva doesn’t respond. He caresses her cheek and presses closer. She has to bite her tongue not to press into his touch.

“You will have me all winter.” He tries. When she still doesn’t answer him, Ivar sighs. He murmurs ‘good night’ and lies back down with one arm draped over her waist. Some time later, when Ivar is asleep, Logn pads over and rests his head at the edge of the bed next to Ylva. She reaches a hand out to scratch him.

“We will be fine, boy,” She whispers “Everything will be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> móðir - mother  
> skatt - treasure  
> skál - cheers  
> varg - wolf  
> faðir - father
> 
>  
> 
> Btw, I found a face claim for Arne: Alexander Siddig.


	2. What I want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER WARNINGS
> 
> Fear of water, bloodlust couple get in a fight

They lucked out with the weather. Summer is coming to an end and the opportunities for Dagný to practice swimming are growing scarce. Dagný screeches as Logn lumbers past her in the shallow water, splashing her and drowning out the sound of Helga’s instructions. Ivar’s fingers twitch between Ylva’s palms. She nestles against his side and rubs soothing circles into his calloused skin.

“She has to learn how to swim, Ivar.” The prospect of their daughter spending a large amount of time in water made him visibly uncomfortable and so she told him that he didn’t have to come today, yet he insisted.

“I know.” His eyes never leave the girl as she takes another few steps out into the water while clinging to Helga’s hand. Logn begins to trail after the duo, seemingly dead set on following little Dagný into the scary wet mass, and Ylva hurries to call him in before he can step on Helga’s feet; again. The massive grey dog grunts as he moseys his way out of the water and onto the bridge, passing the watchful Verja and conveniently stopping right next to his owners to shake the water from his fur. Ylva gives the dog a playful shove in retaliation before he stretches out next to them to dry in the sun. Ivar is still cursing and rubbing water from his eyes when Ylva turns back to him.

“Helga is a good teacher. She helped your brothers, correct?” Ivar doesn’t offer more of a response than a muttered ‘suppose so’, and he looks no less disgruntled than before. The calm only lasts long enough for Dagný to wet her knees then Verja stands at attention. The black dog angles her ears and redirects her attention toward the treeline. Following Verja’s gaze, Ylva spots Floki and Tanaruz making their way across the beach. There’s a wide grin on the boatbuilder’s face as he closes in on the young couple. It doesn’t last long. Floki stares in bewilderment at the scene in front of him; his wife and the young princess getting familiar with the water. Even from afar, Ylva can hear him give up a distressed noise. Tanaruz has to take him by the arm and drag him with her to the bridge. Floki is still staring when they sit down next to the king and queen.

“Are you sure that is wise, sweet Ylva?” Ylva knew this would happen. Neither Floki nor Ivar knows how to swim and if it were up to them Dagný wouldn’t go anywhere near water until she’s a woman grown. Preferably not even then.

“Floki, it is sweet of you to worry-” She begins, making an effort to sound calm.

“Dagný is still very little,” He interrupts ”There is no shame in waiting another year or two before letting her near water. Even three years.” He looks to Tanaruz for support but his adoptive daughter ignores him in favour of petting Logn. As Ylva suspected, Floki only adds fuel to the fire that is Ivar’s worry. He is already trying to detangle himself from Ylva, looking almost as if he is ready to throw himself off the bridge and retrieve the girl.

“Floki does have a point. Perhaps it is best if we take her home instead.”

“No,” She hooks her arm under his and tugs to make him stay put “Our daughter is enjoying herself.”

“I was the same age when I learned to swim.” Tanaruz chimes in, scooting to the edge so that she can dip her toes in the water. Floki begins to protest again but Ivar silences him with a look that says ‘don’t bother’. Ylva turns her head to look at the young woman next to her.

“Tanaruz,” She asks, eager to change the topic ”Any interesting injuries today?”

“Nothing special,” She answers with a shrug of her shoulders, keeping her head down as if to study the water ”Some fool who went to relieve himself in the forest. In the middle of the night, drunk. He needed a few stitches.” Floki nods eagerly, a smile reaching from ear-to-ear.

“She is becoming good at this. Perhaps even better than I was at her age.”  Ylva doesn’t miss the way Tanaruz tenses and she has to bite her tongue not to bring it up. She has no trouble believing Floki’s praise of his adoptive daughter because she remembers Tanaruz staying by her side when Dagný was born.

“I never doubted it.” She says softly.

 

**〜〜〜〜〜*****〜〜〜〜〜**

 

Ivar’s lips brush against the top of her head. Ylva is tempted to tilt her head up for a kiss but another, stronger, part of her wants nothing to do with him. He shuffles to the other side of the table and sits down opposite to her.

“Are you still upset with me?” He asks quietly. Ylva continues folding Dagnýs clothes, hellbent on not meeting his gaze. The question is simply idiotic; she’s made no great effort to hide her feelings from him. He means to leave her in Kattegatt another summer.

“Yes.” She can’t see his reaction, only hears the chair creak as he shifts in it.

“Is this about when you were expecting Dagný? I know I let you down. I want to-” Ivar stops himself, sighing before starting over “-I am going to do better this time.” It is only by sheer force of will that Ylva doesn’t snap at him. She takes a moment to school her features then looks at him for the first time since he sat down.

“If you intend to do better then maybe you should try listening to what I want.” Ivar instantly leans over the table, reaching for her hand.

“What you want is-”

“Not important?” Ylva interrupts, folding her hands together rather than accepting his outreached one. Ivar’s mouth opens only for him to slam it shut again. He shakes his head before answering.

“It is dangerous.”

“More dangerous than leaving me here alone?” She asks, louder than intended “We still have enemies, husband. Your brother is-”

“He is not my brother.” Ivar barks. Ylva averts her gaze. She isn’t used to having her opinions be ignored like this. Even on the occasions when Ivar is reluctant to take her advice, he lets her speak her mind. But ever since his return a fortnight ago he spends most of the time pretending as if there is nothing to discuss. Ylva searches her mind for what to say next, for something that might persuade Ivar to listen, but he beats her to it.

“Wife, you are not coming with me to Eire and that is final.” He uses the same tone as when uttering a command and Ylva snaps back at him before she can stop herself.

“Would you let me go if I wasn’t pregnant?” She doesn’t mean for it to sound as a threat, as if she would drink the dangerous brew he so desperately wanted her to take after finding out about the first pregnancy. Ivar still takes it as one. He stiffens, eyes widening then briefly flicking to her stomach. Ylva holds her breath but the burst of anger she’s waiting for never comes. Instead, Ivar slowly exhales while leaning back in his chair and he waves one hand dismissively.

“Why does that matter, hm?” He says “You  _ are _ pregnant, and you are  _ not  _ going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Just wanted to let you know that I've changed my tumblr username. New name is anunhealthydoseofangst.


End file.
